


in the still of the night (i hear the wolf howl, honey)

by ohfreckle



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Armpit Kink, Bestiality, Dubious Consent, Felching, Knotting, M/M, Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 18:09:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5385482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohfreckle/pseuds/ohfreckle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki goes to bring oil and wine to his grandmother and meets the big, bad wolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the still of the night (i hear the wolf howl, honey)

**Author's Note:**

> The Little Red Riding Hood AU you thought I'd never finish. Woefully unbetaed, but after so long it was post it now or never.
> 
> Please note the warnings. If bestiality isn't your thing, run now.

The dim twilight lingering in the great hall is a perfect match for Loki’s mood. Only tendrils of light illuminate the short days, never quite able to chase away the dark curtain of night at this time of the year, washing the harsh planes of Jotunheim in various shades of grey.

“Why do I have to go there,” Loki asks, unable to hold back the tremor in his voice. ”Father, I had hoped I would be finally allowed to join my brothers on the battlefield. Isn’t it my foremost duty as a prince of Jotunheim to protect our kingdom against the enemy?" 

He has to try, even if he already knows the answer. It’s evident in the red, hard stare Farbauti levels on him. 

“The battlefields are no place for children,” Farbauti says, dismissing Loki with a harsh sound in the back of his throat.

Disappointment rips through Loki like a blade, leaving a familiar bitter taste in the back of his throat. Still, he leaves with a respectful bow, honoring his king; keeps his back straight and his head held high, because showing even the smallest sign of weakness would mean worse than being subjugated to the trifling task of delivering wine and herbs to his grandmother. 

Laufey already awaits him in the royal chambers. So everyone already knew, and only Loki was kept in the dark. Again, as so often.

“Battle isn’t the only way to prove one’s worth,” Laufey tells him while she fills a large basket with fragrant herbs and oils, an assortment of flasks in a myriad of colors, shimmering with a smatter of frost. Loki is well acquainted with all of them as he even has collected many of them himself in the woods, indispensable elements for the art of seidr. 

“Not every Jotun is born a warrior, you’re too—”

“Too small, too _weak_ … I know, Mother, I’ve heard it often enough,” Loki bites out. He takes the basket from Laufey with more force than necessary, sending the bottles clinking against each other, and doesn’t bother to keep a sneer from twisting his mouth.

“I meant too dear to us to lose you. Too valuable an asset with your invaluable gift and vast knowledge of seidr,” Laufey says, patient as only a mother can be.

Reassurances and idle placations. Loki has heard them countless times, but he has yet to experience them to hold some truth. 

“Be swift and careful, Loki. The watchers report that Jarnvidur has fallen silent. Something wicked is roaming the woods, something that makes even the fiercest wolves cower in fear and seek shelter in Angrboda’s hall.” 

Laufey’s hand is heavy on Loki’s shoulder, squeezing roughly, and her red eyes are troubled. "Go, and be sure to bring back good news, my son.”

*** 

Jarnvidur, the Ironwood. 

Loki has traveled it countless times to visit his grandmother. He’s spent many a day in Angrboda’s hall, learning the ways of his people, the Jotnar of the woods. Nowhere in the whole realm magic is stronger than in this strangest of places. It suffuses the whole forest, hanging thick in the air like a tangible thing, and no creature goes unaffected by it.

Magic. Loki’s blessing and his curse. Laufey was born here, passing on her mother’s exceptional gift of seidr to Loki. He would not miss it for the Nine Realms, but as many great gifts it comes at a cost. Many of the Jotnar of the woods are small and strange to look at, and while Loki knows his short stature is the kindest fate that could be bestowed on him, he still resents it.

Laufey was right. The forest is different, feels different. Loki shivers, and it’s not for his light attire. He rarely wears more than a simple loincloth and a short cape of fur around his shoulders for his travels, and today is no exception. No, it’s the eerie silence that has settled over the wood that makes him shudder. The absence of even the slightest sound of a living creature is deafening, a menace that makes his skin prickle with the knowledge that he’s being watched.

Loki is a warrior, despite his youth and stature and what his elders may think. He’s not easily scared, and he most certainly isn’t now, but like every warrior he trusts his instincts and so he quickens his pace, walks a little faster along the well-trodden path. Is it only his imagination, or does the rustle of leaves hasten as well? 

Once he thinks he catches a flicker of silver in the thicket next to the old path, a ripple of thick, grey fur over sleek muscle, but it’s gone the second he turns his head. One of the wood people then, watching his journey, most likely on his mother’s order. All of his kind are shapeshifters, but only Angrboda’s people run in the form of wolves. 

Even without an unknown threat Loki knows better than to stray from his path and makes good progress. He keeps looking for any sign of life, but even here, where the forest is thick and dense and usually teeming with life, all he sees are the gnarled branches of the trees, laden with snow, stark and beautiful.

Once Loki played here as a child, always under Laufey’s watchful eyes. His mother was born here, but she never was blind to her kin’s faults. A prince, even a runtling with no hope to ever ascend to the throne, is still a prince, and so it was only for a few happy moons that he was allowed to feel the rustling bed of leaves and the crunch of frozen snow under his little paws. 

It wasn’t until he was much older that he was permitted to come back here, and much like today it is only ever to visit his grandmother, always with stern orders to hurry along. 

Loki doesn’t mind. He’d rather be done sooner than later with his visits, for his grandmother is no less harsh and forbidding than Farbauti and Loki holds little love in his heart for her. 

There are other ways to roam the woods, better times to absorb its magic and test his skills, and Loki has found them all many, many moons ago. Sometimes his adventures go unnoticed, but at other times he incurs the wrath of Angrboda and her people if his mischief goes too far. Those are the times Loki likes best. He can’t help but smile at the memories and touches the long, thin scars on his thigh that are barely visible among his markings but remind him that he is far from being infallible.

The wolf leaps out of the thicket after yet another twist of the old path widens into a small clearing. Despite its size the beast barely makes a sound, a rustle of dry leaves Loki’s only warning before it’s looming in front of him, the sound of its claws piercing the frozen snow sending a shiver down Loki’s spine. One glance is enough for Loki to know that this is no creature of the woods. Its coat is light and silvery, which is unusual for the wolves of Jarnvidur but not unheard of, with a smattering of gold dusting its withers. But its eyes— 

The beast’s eyes glow a deep amber. Loki startles at the strange kind of knowledge that seems to lurk in their depths, holding back the spell that’s already crackling at the tips of his fingers. Without a doubt this is the beast that has the whole wood holding its breath, menacing even while it stands completely still and regards Loki curiously with a look like molten gold. And as quiet as it came the wolf is gone, bounding into the trees with a mighty leap and barely a sound, Loki’s brief moment of hesitation all it needs to escape.

Loki hurries along, more shaken than he likes to admit by this brief but unsettling encounter. 

He reaches his destination shortly before the brief gray of day fades into the blackest night. The small house is stooping, much like its owner, and the sagging door swings open with a groan as Loki steps into his grandmother’s always brightly lit rooms, enchanted by himself as a test of his skills. His grandmother’s surprise and her grudging praise are among the few fond moments he shared with her.

Nothing seems to be amiss in the main room, but one quick look and Loki knows she isn’t here, hasn’t been for days. Dust has already settled over the clutter of books and flasks on the large working table, a small heap of herbs and leaves wilting, useless now. 

A man is sitting at the table, taking a deep drought from a large wineskin. He lounges in what Loki has come to think of as his own chair, a stool with a crude back he thinks his grandmother mostly keeps around for the smaller wood folk.

“Who are you and where is the owner of this house,” Loki asks without taking his eyes off the man. 

It’s not out of the ordinary for his grandmother to disappear for days, but never would she let a stranger into her house, not even if he were in dire need. This one here looks to be in perfect health, though, and quite impressively so at that.

“My name is Thor, but I fear that is the only answer I have for you,” the man says, his voice a deep, pleasant rumble. “I got lost in the woods, but when I knocked to ask for shelter nobody answered the door.” He takes another swig of wine, the royal sigil etched into the wineskin clearly visible in the soft light.

“It also seems you’re a thief,” Loki snaps. Thor doesn’t seem to take offense. He acquiesces with a nod that might look demure if it weren’t for the smile curling his lips. 

Loki has met men like him on his travels with his brothers, men of Asgard and Vanaheim, working men and proud warriors. 

The Jotnar guard their own boarders and have few relations with other people, but once in a while Loki’s brothers travel into the realms outside to haggle and carouse, and sometimes they take Loki with them. Twice now he visited the brothels with them and there he let men like Thor fuck him, for he is too small to lay with his own kind, much to his own chagrin and disappointment.

Loki thinks about it often, at night in his bed while he listens to the noises from the many feasts at court he is not yet allowed to attend officially, moans and cries that grow louder and more lustful as the night progresses. Alas, it seems it has been too long, for simply the memory of those big men filling him is enough to make his cunt clench and his cock stir, and none of them were as fine as this strange man. 

Thor is handsome, beautiful even with long golden hair and an easy smile. He’s big, larger than any of the men Loki has met, close to his own height but much broader, with thick muscles straining against the fabric of his simple breeches and tunic. A warrior, without a doubt. Perhaps even a spy. The warning rings loud and clear in Loki’s mind, but it dies as quickly as it flickered to life when Thor shrugs back his red cape and slides his legs wide, revealing the thick bulge between his legs. 

“There is no shame in a man’s need,” Thor says. His voice is low, knowing. Taunting. Loki can feel Thor’s gaze caressing the lines of his body, stopping where the thin loincloth does little to conceal his quickly swelling cock. Thor’s eyes on him are hot, bold, his smile sharp but without malice. 

Blood rushes to Loki’s face and heats his cheeks, and once again he curses himself that he has not yet learned to control his body’s reactions. His brothers often tease him about it and Loki hates it so much, but to have it happen here, with a stranger who might have very well harmed his grandmother…

“Come now, Loki, there’s nothing you have to fear from me. I won’t hurt you.” Thor unclasps his cape, undoes the laces of his tunic with surprisingly deft fingers and pulls it over his head before he leans back again, looking at Loki through his disheveled hair with a challenge in his eyes. ”Unless you ask me to."

The impertinence of it chafes at Loki, distracts him long enough from the hot simmer of lust in his belly to go over Thor’s words again. “How do you know my—” he wants to ask, but the question is forgotten, gone in the blink of an eye just as the breath rushes out of Loki. 

Thor is magnificent.

He’s big. Loki knows he’s staring, his gaze lingering on the thick muscles of Thor’s neck and arms rippling when Thor rolls his shoulders. The curve of his powerful chest is dusted with golden hair, and Loki has a sudden vision of rubbing his cheek over it, tasting it, the line of it coarse against his tongue as he mouthes along it, all the way down to Thor’s stomach and the waistband of his breeches.

Loki can feel Thor watching him, catches a spark of bright blue when he flicks his eyes up, but he’s immediately drawn back to where Thor’s fingers are grazing the laces of his breeches, revealing lush curls of a slightly darker shade of gold, framing the barest hint of wet and ruddy flesh.

Loki drops to his knees before he even knows it. This must be how it feels to be bewitched, only Loki can’t detect even a hint of magic besides his own. No, he’s brought to his knees by nothing but the desire that clenches his gut like a fist. He’s wet between the legs, slick with the need to have his cunt filled by a hard cock after so long. Above him Thor sways forward and sniffs the air where Loki just stood, smelling him, tasting Loki’s need with deep mouthfuls of air.

Loki wonders what it is that he tastes like, if he smells anything like Thor. Wild, like an animal. Ready to fuck. He drinks him in, rubs his cheek against the soft hair of Thor’s chest just like he imagined, nipping lightly, tasting want and sweat as he follows the taste of him to where it’s stronger. Thor rumbles out a laugh, low and delighted, when Loki noses at the tuft of hair that peeks out under his arm, calls Loki a wicked thing right before he lifts his arm for him.

Loki can’t hold back the small, hungry noises spilling from his throat as he laps at the damp hair, tasting sweat and something darker that sends his heart racing. It makes him hard, so hard he’s shaking with it, his cock and cunt sopping wet already just from this small taste. 

“Knew you’d be like this,” Thor murmurs. There’s a rough tug at Loki’s hair and he follows it, arching back and narrowing his eyes at Thor, not quite ready to relinquish his prize, but he relents when Thor bends down, his intent clear. 

“Beautiful. So good for me.” Thor’s slicks the words against his lips and Loki leans up when Thor slants their mouths together, licking him open and breathless. Loki makes a noise into the kiss, something small and wanting, in the back of his throat and lets Thor steal his breath with deep strokes of his tongue.

He breaks the kiss only when the strain of stretching to meet Thor becomes too much, but he is far from done tasting the other man, mouthing over Thor’s throat down to his collarbone, the broad slope of his shoulders.

“Ah, so eager.” Thor’s voice is rough, softened with a lilt of amusement. 

Loki flushes hot, but the hard curve of his cock makes it impossible to deny the truth of it. “Isn’t that what you wanted,” he asks, tart, sitting back on his heels. The words come out sharp, tinged with the uneasiness that rears its head again and curls in his belly like a poisonous snake.

“It’s what we both want, is it not,” Thor answers. “I meant it, there is no shame in one’s need, there’s only pleasure to be had.” 

And doesn’t Loki want to believe it. It’s what keeps him awake at night, too many nights of wanting, and Loki is so, so tired of not having what he wants. 

Being here with Thor feels like a dream; strange, unreal, like something from a wicked tale told in the wee hours of the morning after one too many goblets of wine. 

Thor is right. There is no shame in his need and Loki will let himself have this.

He looks up then, rakes his eyes over the heavy bulk of Thor’s body before he meets Thor’s hungry gaze. Loki doesn’t trust his voice not to quiver; his fingers loosening the laces of Thor’s breeches will have to be answer enough. Loki can hardly breathe past the tight curl of anticipation in his chest, his fingers shaking when he finally peels open the flaps of Thor’s trousers. 

Thor’s cock curves up from amidst a thick bush of golden hair, heavy and swollen, a perfect match for Thor’s large frame. The ruddy head is slick already, and Loki’s mouth waters for the milky drop easing out of the slit. He wraps his fingers around the thick base and goes hot at the heft of it against his palm, his gut clenching with the need to feel the impossible width of it stretching his cunt. He braces himself against Thor’s thighs and leans forward, tongue already out, groaning at the first smear of salty slickness against it. 

Above him there’s an answering sound and then the strong slide of fingers through Loki’s hair. It feels good, grounding, and Loki lets himself be guided, slicks his lips over the round head, learning the shape of it with open-mouthed kisses and delicate flicks of his tongue. Thor’s thighs tremble when he traces the little bridge of skin under the head, so Loki does it again, harder this time, coaxing out thick drops of precome as his reward. He laps at them eagerly before he takes in more of Thor’s cock. His lips are tingling with the stretch long before they even meet his hand and he pulls off with a lewd sound, gasping wetly and struggling for breath while he blinks wetness from his eyes. 

Right in front of him Thor looks exactly as Loki feels, and Loki’s chest swells with pride. He feels filthy, his chin damp with spit and semen, but Thor—Thor looks utterly wrecked, slumped heavily against the chair, his cock curving lavishly wet against the flat plane of his stomach. 

“You’re a demon,” Thor laughs, his chest heaving. “Dangerous and wicked.”

Loki loves the sound of it, can’t help but preen a little that he took Thor’s breath away so easily. “You haven’t seen half of it,” he promises and leans in again, drawn by the heavy scent.

Thor stops him, though, sitting up much too fast for someone who looked very much asleep just a moment ago. Loki has to scramble back on his knees, a hiss of irritation bubbling up from his throat, but the complaint dies on his lips when Thor stands and rids himself of his beeches and boots with quick, impatient movements.

And Loki knows, in that very moment, that he’ll never be capable to look his fill of him. Thor is huge and golden, a god among men, thickly muscled and narrow in all the right places.

“Well, aren’t you going to show me then,” Thor asks, looking down on Loki with his brows raised, one large hard curling around his cock, and there is that arrogance again. Some distant part of Loki thinks that he should hate it, but the part of him that’s shaking with need doesn’t care, loves kneeling here without a care in the world but the need to be stuffed full of cock.

“Show me your cunt, Loki.” Barely more than a rumble it slams into Loki, taking away his breath with how badly he wants to.

His cape and the soaked loincloth are gone with barely more than a thought and an impatient tug and then Loki slides his legs wide, baring his cock and cunt without shame. Thor eyes go hot and dark, almost black until there’s only a thin ring of blue left and he looks at Loki, _looks_ at him until it burns right through Loki and he leans back on his hands and arches, lifting his hips until his wet folds spread open. 

An invitation. 

A plea, and Thor hears him and drops to his knees between Loki’s legs, tumbling him onto his back and then Loki is suddenly full, gloriously full, three of Thor’s thick fingers sliding into him with barely any resistance at all because he’s ready, has been ready since the moment Thor he laid eyes on Thor. 

He bucks into it with a moan, a jumble of _please_ and _more_ rushing out of him, eyes falling shut at the sharp burst of pleasure when Thor give him what he wants and adds a fourth finger, fucks him open with deep strokes. Loki cries out with the force of it and still he craves more. He plants his feet on the ground and rolls his hips upwards, and suddenly there’s friction, inside and out, the heel of Thor’s hand pressing down, something for Loki to grind against. He works his clit against it, blindly seeking his pleasure with short jerks of his hips until his bones are melting together and he comes with a rush, clenching hard on the fingers still curled deep inside of him.

Thor is smiling down on him when Loki finally regains enough wit to open his eyes. “You really are a demon,” Thor rasps, “at least you come like one. Norns, you’ll be beautiful when you come on my cock.” Loki is tempted to glare at him, but it would be a wasted effort when his cunt is still pulsing with the force of how hard he just came. 

“Are you going to fuck me then?” The words are thick on Loki’s tongue, sweet with lingering satisfaction. He whines when Thor pulls his fingers free.

“As many times as you as want me to.” Thor brings his fingers to his lips, inhaling deeply as he laps at the wetness still clinging to them, his eyes shuttering with pleasure as if he’s never tasted anything as rich as Loki’s cunt. 

Loki goes flushed and heated at the promise and to hear it like that opens a carefully guarded door in his mind.

“I want you to fuck me until my legs won’t carry me anymore,” he says, reaching for Thor’s cock. The words are tumbling out in a rush. “Again and again, until I’m dripping with your come. I want _everything_.” 

Loki is babbling now, spurred on by his arousal and the lewdness of his confession, but it doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter that he’s never let anyone come inside of him, no matter how desperately he longed for it. But he’ll let Thor do it, fill him up, make his belly round with it. It’s madness, but Loki doesn’t care.

“Everything, you say.” Thor smiles at him, sharp, a little mocking, like he knows things Loki doesn’t dare to dream. Greedy. “Do you even know what it is that you’re asking for?” His cock throbs in Loki’s grasp.

“Maybe not.” Loki swallows and looks straight at Thor. “But I want it.”

Something in Loki’s eyes seems to convince Thor that he means it. “It will hurt,” Thor says. It’s not a warning, not with the way his cock grows even harder. 

Loki can’t see how it couldn’t hurt, it seems impossible considering Thor’s girth. It doesn’t matter, he’s never minded a bit of roughness from his bedfellows, more than capable to put things to right if the need arises. 

“So big,” he breathes, stroking up the thick length with a twist of his wrist a and he looks at Thor to make sure there are no doubts that he loves it.

“All the better you fuck you with.”

It’s the only warning Loki gets before he finds himself on his hands and knees on his grandmother’s old rug. Thor bears down on him to lie on his chest, his palm hot and heavy between Loki’s shoulder blades. There’s tremendous power in the grip, a thread of violence vibrating between them, the hazard of it sending a rush of forbidden pleasure licking along Loki’s spine. 

Thor takes him with a single thrust, sinking in deep until his balls are pressing hot and heavy against Loki’s arse. Loki is trembling, his cunt stretching wide around Thor’s girth and he loses his breath at the deep, aching burn where he’s split open.

For a long moment he’s frozen, unsure if he wants to scramble away from it or beg for more, deeper, but then Thor moves. He pulls back and Loki feels his inner walls cling to the thick shaft until he’s spread open by just the wide cockhead, his cunt pulsing and demanding to be filled again. He doesn’t have to wait and gasps as Thor fills him even quicker, even deeper. Loki is burning with it and his whole body shudders with the most exquisite pain he has ever felt. 

Loki can’t even breathe for the sheer pleasure that ripples along his nerves. He sucks in mouthfuls of air, tasting Thor on it. Thor’s hands are rough on his hips, pulling him back onto his cock with short, hard jerks and Loki lets himself be fucked.

Thor comes with a shout, holding himself deep inside while he fills Loki, pushing his come in deep with minute thrusts of his hips and for the first time Loki knows what it means to be truly taken. 

“Don’t…” Loki breathes when he feels the cock inside of him finally soften and Thor moves to pull out. He can’t bear the thought of not being full, it just can’t be, not when he already feels the fire gather at the base of his spine. He uncurls one hand from the rug and reaches back, urges Thor close again with a hand on his thigh while he clenches hard around Thor’s cock, willing him to grow hard again.

“So greedy,” Thor says. Loki can’t see him, but he sounds delighted. “Look how full you are, as you’re meant to be.” 

A finger toys against Loki’s cunt and slips inside and then another, thrusting into him lightly, and Loki can feel the shift of those fingers against Thor’s cock, stretching him so wide he can’t hold back a small sound of alarm. It’s almost too much, but he can already feel the first tremulous little spasms licking up his spine and then he freezes, his muscles turning rigid while he comes on Thor’s hardening cock. 

“I told you’d be beautiful on my cock. I was right.” Thor pulls his fingers free and fucks into Loki, lazily at first, teasing him until Loki grows tired of it and pushes back. 

It’s all the permission Thor needs. He drives hard into Loki, doesn’t let up until Loki can’t help but come again with a cry, mind blank with pleasure. Thor fucks him through it with tireless strokes, the lewd slap of skin against skin accompanied by the wet sound of Thor’s cock driving in and out of Loki, slick with his own come. Loki can feel it dripping out of him along with his own wetness, slicking his folds and trickling down his thighs. It’s filthy and obscene and so very, very good. Loki revels in it for long moments, another shudder racking him, making him clench and shiver and keen his pleasure and he arches, greedy for the feel of Thor’s cock stretching him from the inside.

Thor’s breath has become ragged and he bears down on Loki, weighing him down. Loki moans, his body humming its approval when Thor’s cock swells even thicker inside of him, stretching him to the point of pain even as fucked open as he is. 

He remembers Thor’s _It will hurt_ now, and in that same very moment Loki truly understands what he meant with it. 

Thor stills, the blunt pressure of his fingers against Loki’s hips suddenly sharp, pricking his skin. Loki freezes for long moments, held immobile by the heavy weight shifting against his back and the rough scratch of fur against the back of his thighs.

“Norns, what—” 

He’s silenced by a rough snarl that has nothing human in it. Out of the corner of his eye he catches a flicker of amber and silver before there’s a rush of hot breath against his neck, the threat of fangs digging into his skin without breaking it. 

It seems the terror of Jarnvidur caught him after all. 

Loki keeps very still, but to his own surprise he isn’t afraid. He listens to the wolf sniffing the air, just like Thor did earlier, and then the sharp teeth release him, slowly, carefully, the beast shifting again. 

“It’s mounting me,” Loki thinks, frantic, when the wolf’s cock slides ever deeper into him. His face heats when he realizes that his hips bucked back into it without him even realizing it. His cock is still achingly, blindingly hard despite how often he’s come already, his cunt sopping wet.

A small part of Loki, the one that isn’t senseless with lust, tells him that he should be terrified, that he should be ashamed. He shoves it into the darkest corner of hiss mind with frightening ease, left to be forgotten, because the truth is that he’s never felt more alive, more wanted. 

Instead he lifts his arse and tilts his hips, offering his already full cunt in quiet acquiescence to the wolf. 

“Do it. Fuck me”! 

The beast is rutting between Loki’s thighs before he even gets the words out. It fucks him quick and ruthless, pushes in with more force than any man would be capable of and Loki rolls his hips to meet it and gasps himself hoarse. His cunt quivers right before he comes with a low moan, clenching around the thick cock splitting him open, soaking his thighs with a gush of liquid want.

The wolf— no, Thor, Loki thinks hazily, this is the still the same man he met only minutes or hours before. Thor grinds in hard and deep and comes with a feral snarl, his claws drawing blood on Loki’s hips while he fills him with long spurts of come that seem to be hotter, wetter than the one already filling him up. There’s so much Loki feels swollen, filled to bursting with cock and come.

“I can’t—,” he gasps, the words dying on his lips when he feels Thor swell against his entrance. His knot, Loki realizes, Norns help him. He’s seen wolves fuck, of course he has, sometimes even idly wondering what it feels like to be taken like that, and now he has his answer. Loki wails and comes from cock and cunt, throat burning while he spasms helplessly around the hard bulge splitting him open. Thor is locking inside of him, tying them together with his knot notching round and full inside Loki’s cunt. _Breeding him_. 

Thor is very still against him, but Loki feels restless, his body still humming with need. He rocks back, oh so carefully, shivering as he rides the thick swell of Thor’s knot. 

They stay like that for long minutes. Loki bites his lips and presses his brow against his folded arms. He’s full, gods, so full, every muscle tense and quivering. All he can do is to suffer the pleasure and pain roiling in his gut. It’s too much; everything Loki never knew he needed. 

He almost regrets it when Thor finally slips free with an obscene squelching sound, the sudden emptiness unsettling. Loki’s cunt clenches on nothing, and after all the things he’s done today his cheeks still flame when he feels the warm trickle of come leaking out of him and the sensation of a rough tongue licking a sloppy kiss into his cunt.

Loki sobs out a harsh breath. He’s tired, sore, fucked out of all his strength, but his body doesn’t seem to care. Already the simmering arousal in Loki’s belly flares again, sending sparks of pleasure burning through his blood. He gives in with a sigh, slides his legs wider despite the pain in his knees and lets the beast lick him out with long strokes from cunt to arsehole, the warm wetness soothing not only the soreness between his legs, but also his mind. 

“Has anyone ever fucked you here,” Thor asks, and the sound of his voice startles Loki more than the fingertip pressing against the furl of his arsehole. 

Loki shakes his head no, not trusting his voice. His knees finally give out, but Thor catches him around the waist and helps him to lie down on his side. Loki can’t hold back the groan of relief when his muscles finally relax enough for him to stretch his legs and roll onto his back.

Thor is kneeling next to him, looking exactly the same: beautiful, golden, but also wild, feral, now that Loki knows what to look for. Sated, his large cock spent and wet against his thigh. 

“I will be the first then.” Thor slips a hand between Loki’s legs, bold and proprietary, and presses his fingertip into him, just a quick tease and then it’s gone again. “Later. It seems I have exhausted you, my prince.”

“Yes, later,” Loki says, relieved when his voice is steady. He’s finally beginning to feel like himself again, less frantic and able to think clearly again. Still, after the fucking he just got there’s no need to pretend that he won’t let Thor fuck him in the arse. 

He lets Thor pull him up to his knees and kiss him, too sated to do more than open his mouth for Thor to take, letting Thor taste him with broad strokes of his tongue.

“You taste like lightning,” Thor says, biting down on Loki’s lower lip. 

“Mmmh, my father is the Chief of the Lightning Clan,” Loki murmurs into the kiss. “But you already knew that.” He’s not surprised when Thor simply nods.

“Who are you,” Loki pulls back from their kiss so he can search Thor’s face. He may have lost his mind to give himself to a stranger like he just did and will do again before the night is over, but he still needs to know. “ _What_ are you.” 

“I’m quite like you. Man and wolf, a warrior.” 

It’s hard to miss that Thor answers only one of Loki’s questions, but Loki lets it slide, at least for now, distracted by the gentleness of Thor’s hand against his jaw, the softest brush of Thor’s lips against his own. 

“I have so much to teach you,” Thor murmurs against him. “Didn’t you think to just change as well, to fight me wolf against wolf?”

“No…” The word feels vile and heavy. What kind of warrior is he, begging his father to let him march into battle and forgetting about his strongest weapon at the first sight of a handsome stranger. 

“Will you come with me then and let me teach you?” _And fuck you_ is left unsaid, but Loki hears it anyways.

It’s easy to let Thor kiss away the bitter the taste of shame, to think about the things he’ll never have here: his father’s love, his people’s respect. 

The throne.

“Yes,” Loki nods, and he hasn’t felt this free since he was a small child.

“We’ll leave in the morning then.” 

Thor stands with a tired groan and retrieves his cape, his eyes warm when he kneels again and fastens it around Loki’s shoulders. Loki doesn’t need it, unaffected by the cold by his very nature, but he accepts it as what it is. 

A promise.

“Yes,” he says, pulling Thor down to lie next to him. “In the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> Loki may be centuries old, but by frost-giant's standards he's still a young man without much life experience. Which makes Thor a bad, bad ~~wolf~~ man for taking advantage of Loki's raging hormones.
> 
> Any and all feedback is much appreciated! For updates, snippets and whinings on my fics, feel free to add me on [tumblr](http://ohfreckle.tumblr.com/).


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